Ok, so this was an English assignment of mine about Mayella's point of view after the book. I had always wondered what had happened to her. My apologies for the poor attempt at dialect, I tried. :P I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the To Kill a Mockingbird characters.

Just the Geraniums

Tom's dead. So's papa. Now it's just me 'n' the young 'uns.

I swear that Mr.Finch'll get his someday; he killed papa. Mr. Tate says it was all an accident, but I know it ain't. It was them Finch kids who were there with him, an' we don't own any knives as fine as the one papa was stabbed with.

Papa would never take is own life anyways. When papa got mad he never took it out on himself. He was all too high 'n' mighty for even somethin' like self shame. It was never his fault he got drunk, or that we was poor, or that his daughter wanted a normal life.

He'd yell, "Mayella them stupid flowers you're waterin' ain't gonna feed the family!" An' when I'd try to dress up as proper as I could he'd laugh, "Mayella, there ain't no way someone gonna fall for filth like you!" It was always Mayella 'n' never him, that's what my bruised arms used to shout as they throbbed with pain.

And that's why a fell for Tom. My name seemed less of a foul word when he spoke it. He was mighty polite and would always help. And his smile. It was always so gentle and welcoming. But I knew I couldn't have him. Even if I weren't so poor, even if he wasn't colored. I supposed I was never meant to smile for more than a second my whole life.

When I cornered him that day, I knew I loved him. At least... I thought I did. Even when momma was alive, 'love' was only a fairy tale she'd tell us kids to stop our tears. But I guess I was wrong, I didn't love Tom, I killed him. Once again it's Mayella's fault. And once again I can never smile.

We ain't getting' much money now since papa's gone. I s'pose the bruises was worth it; with the bruises came food, and a house, and the closest thing to a normal life I'll ever get. I mean, we's still getting' money now, but it ain't enough. It ain't enough for me and the seb'm others. An' there's no way we can get any more money. I can't work; housework's my job an' even if I did get a job it wouldn't be enough. I'd never make as much as a grown man. Gus could work I s'pose; he's 15 an' second oldest. But the thing is he don' want to and when he don' want to do somethin' he ain't ever gonna do it.

I'm all alone now an' scared. Tom was my only company. He was mighty nice to me an' instead of a thank you, I killed him. An' then I killed papa. If it weren't for me we'd have no dealin's with them Finches. Though all the bruises he made have gone away, the pain seems to get worse. What will happen to the others kids? What will happen to me? The future is full of all these fearful questions an' nothin's for certain.

Now all I have is my red geraniums. An' pretty soon the cold'll take them away too...

-End-

Pleeze R&R!!!!- Soop